


We'll Be Counting Stars

by kiyala



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, oblivious idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 00:29:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac has never thought of Combeferre in a sexual way before. When he happens across Combeferre and Grantaire in bed, he doesn't quite know how to stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

By the time Courfeyrac stumbles into the kitchen in the morning, Yvette is already sitting at the counter with a cup of coffee, in the middle of a heated discussion with Combeferre about a book that they've both read. She has her long, honey brown hair tied up into a messy bun and she's wearing last night's clothes, smiling gratefully as Combeferre puts pancakes into her plate. 

They pause their conversation to greet him good morning—Yvette kisses his cheek and thanks him for last night—before slipping back into it like it's the most natural thing in the world. It's one of the many things that Courfeyrac likes about Combeferre. He doesn't lecture Courfeyrac about the people he brings home, and whenever they stay the night, he's always nice to them the morning after, making enough breakfast for three instead of two. Courfeyrac is pretty sure that every single one of them has gotten along with Combeferre, whether through conversation like Yvette, or just a comfortable silence as they wait for their coffee to do its magic. Not that this is particularly surprising, because Combeferre is quite possibly the easiest person to get along with, and Courfeyrac is incredibly lucky to have him not only as a flatmate but as a best friend. 

Yvette leaves after breakfast, kissing both Courfeyrac and Combeferre on the cheek on her way out. She makes no promises that they'll see each other again and neither does Courfeyrac. It's not that Courfeyrac doesn't do relationships because he does, and he's great at them, it's just that he enjoys this too, and Courfeyrac is all about doing what he enjoys.

"Your pancakes are the _best_ ," Courfeyrac murmurs, as he washes up. He catches Combeferre's eye and smiles warmly at him. "No, really. Thank you. I know that you don't actually have to be awake for another two hours and yet…"

"It's nothing," Combeferre says with a small shrug. "I was hungry anyway."

It's the middle of the week, and neither of them have morning classes. Courfeyrac knows that he should probably be doing the readings he needs to do for his assignments, but he spends the morning watching cartoons instead. Combeferre sits on the couch beside him at his insistence and even though he has a textbook open in his lap, his quiet huffs of amusement at the jokes on the show give him away

Courfeyrac ends up having to rush to class if he has any hope of making it on time, even with Combeferre's reminders. One lecture and two tutorials later, he comes home with yet another assignment, a headache from having forgotten to eat lunch, and a date for Saturday night. Patrice works in the university library, is tall and gorgeous, and has dropped several hints about going straight back to his place after they have dinner. Combeferre listens patiently as Courfeyrac tells him all about their plans, about how Patrice had not even bothered with subtlety at all. It's refreshing, and Courfeyrac is already looking forward to Saturday night. As often as he tends to take people home with him, he tries to give Combeferre as many nights to himself as possible to make up for the strangers taking up the third stool in the kitchen in the mornings. Combeferre never outwardly acknowledges it, but Courfeyrac knows that he appreciates it all the same. He even looks more relaxed the next day, and that's all the motivation Courfeyrac needs to go back to someone else's place for the night when the option's there. 

The date, as enjoyable as it is, is also a little disappointing. Patrice is a wonderful guy and they have a lot in common, but there's just no chemistry between them. They talk throughout their meal, laughing at each other's jokes and moving to a café, where they sit and talk for another hour or two, but at the end of it, they both know that this isn't going anywhere else. They part as friends, so Courfeyrac doesn't really consider it a big loss, patting him on the back and then walking home. 

It's almost midnight by the time Courfeyrac gets home, unlocking the door and letting himself in quietly because the light in the lounge room is off, which means that Combeferre could be asleep. The sounds that greet Courfeyrac as he shuts the door tell him that no, Combeferre is most definitely not.

Courfeyrac stops in his tracks, listening to the creak of bed springs, the sound of skin meeting skin, a low moan that—yes, that voice belongs to Combeferre. He didn't even know that Combeferre _had_ sex, but here they are and fuck, Courfeyrac is ridiculously hard and that's not good. He needs to get to his room, quite possibly find his earplugs, and pretend that this is all just one incredibly detailed dream that his mind had come up with to make up for the lack of sex tonight. 

Except Combeferre's room is on the way to Courfeyrac's, and he hadn't expected Courfeyrac to come home, so he hasn't bothered to shut the door to his room. Courfeyrac _knows_ that he shouldn't look, that he shouldn't even slow down, but he does both of those things, because he is an idiot. An absolute idiot.

And Combeferre is fucking Grantaire. 

Courfeyrac stands in the doorway, unnoticed because they're both facing away from him, but the light in Combeferre's room is on and that is Grantaire beneath him, face buried into a pillow as he moans brokenly, his ass in the air, held in place by Combeferre's hands, and Courfeyrac's mouth goes dry at the sight in front of him. Combeferre rolls his hips forward in a smooth, steady rhythm and Courfeyrac is completely entranced by the shift of the muscles in his back, the way the back of his neck is flushed pink and his face probably is too, and a voice at the back of Courfeyrac's mind wonders how far down his chest that pink goes. 

"Fuck," Combeferre moans and yeah, fuck, Courfeyrac is _fucked_. 

He needs to get out of there before he's caught. He walks to his room, making it as far as his bed before he's shoving his pants down and wrapping his fingers around his cock and even that is enough to have him whimpering in relief, too quiet to be heard from the next room. He doesn't even remember the last time he's needed to come so badly, stroking himself in time to Combeferre's panting, thinking of the way Combeferre had a hand holding Grantaire's head down, fingers curled into dark curly hair that could very easily be someone _else's_ and Courfeyrac clamps a hand over his mouth just before he comes, muffling the cry that escapes his lips.

Collapsing back in bed, he grabs for some tissues to clean himself up and pulls his pants back up, his mind reeling. He's pretty sure that the standard response to walking in on his best friend having sex with another one of their friends isn't to jerk of frantically and have what is quite possible _the_ best orgasm he's ever given himself. His first response when he needs help is to call Combeferre but considering that it's not an option right now, Courfeyrac calls Marius instead.

It rings for a while, before Cosette answers. "Hi Courfeyrac. Sorry, Marius is a little _tied up_ at the moment and can't get to his phone. Is it urgent?"

"Nope," he squeaks, then covers his mouth, even though his voice is still too soft to be heard over the sound of Combeferre _still_ fucking Grantaire and really, Courfeyrac thinks hysterically, how long are they going to go for anyway. "No big deal. Have fun. Bye."

He hangs up and runs a hand through his hair. Wonderful. Everyone's getting laid except for him.

And Enjolras.

Courfeyrac messages him instead of calling. _Help_.

His response is immediate. _Is something wrong???_

There are so many things wrong. Courfeyrac doesn't know how to talk about this to Enjolras, the way he would to Marius, but maybe _not_ talking about it would be good too. Not thinking about it. Doing his very best to ignore the fact that he can close his eyes and still imagine Combeferre from behind, slick with sweat and panting softly with each thrust. 

_Could do with company. Are you at home?_

Again, he doesn't have to wait long for Enjolras' reply. _Fourth level of the library, working on our cybercrime assignment._

It's past midnight on a Saturday night. Of course Enjolras is doing an assignment that isn't due for more than a week. 

In the next room, Combeferre comes with a loud, wordless moan that makes the heat pool in Courfeyrac's stomach all over again. Fuck everything.

_I'll be there in a few minutes with coffee!_

He grabs his bag, which he hadn't bothered to unpack after classes anyway, and sneaks out before either Combeferre or Grantaire can notice he's home at all.

He tries not to think about it as he walks to the all-night café, getting two large coffees for them, and then going to the library.

It's impossible to think of anything else.


	2. Chapter 2

Courfeyrac gets home at three o'clock in the morning and he's just as quiet as before when he lets himself in. The apartment is silent and dark, and by the light of his phone as he makes his way to his room, Courfeyrac can't help but notice that Grantaire is gone. 

He's far too tired to think about it any further than that, so he puts his bag down on the floor and collapses face-down in bed, letting exhaustion claim him. Despite how tired he is, he still wakes before Combeferre does the next morning. He's in the kitchen, making coffee, when Combeferre walks out of his room, pausing for a moment as he registers that Courfeyrac's there.

"You're home earlier than I expected." 

Courfeyrac shrugs as casually as he can manage. "I woke up early. Coffee?"

Combeferre nods in thanks as Courfeyrac pours the coffee out into two mugs. "How did your date go?"

"It was alright. Fun, but I don't think I'm going to see him again." Courfeyrac wets his lips, not looking at Combeferre as he sips from his mug before asking, "How was your night?"

"Oh, you know," Combeferre replies with a shrug and _fuck_ , does Courfeyrac know. "Just stayed at home. Didn't really do very much at all, actually."

"Oh." Courfeyrac's chest feels inexplicably tight all of a sudden. So Combeferre and Grantaire are keeping their— _thing_ a secret. Okay. It makes Courfeyrac wonder just how long they've been keeping it a secret, if this is what Combeferre does whenever Courfeyrac is out for the night. And then he's right back to thinking of Combeferre having sex and as much as he wants to groan and bash his head against the kitchen counter, he keeps his expression blank and continues to sip at his coffee. "That sounds nice and relaxing."

Combeferre smiles against his coffee mug, and Courfeyrac wishes he didn't know what he's probably smiling about.

"Right, well, I'm going out to get some readings done before class tomorrow," Courfeyrac declares as he washes his mug and puts it away. "See you later at the meeting this afternoon?"

"See you then," Combeferre replies, and Courfeyrac nearly forgets to take his bag with him in his haste to leave.

He spends the majority of the morning staring blankly at his readings as he tries not to think about Combeferre. Not thinking about Combeferre is much more difficult than it has any right to be. Combeferre is his _best friend_ and it doesn't even make sense that he won't get out of Courfeyrac's mind while Grantaire barely even registers. He doesn't know what the difference is, or he _does_ , but he doesn't want to think about that at all.

By the time Courfeyrac needs to leave to get to the meeting on time, he's just barely managed to finish his readings and he shoves everything into his bag, walking to the Café Musain. Enjolras had somehow sweet talked the owners into letting them use it as a place to hold their social justice meetings every week, back when they'd first joined university, and they like the group well enough to continue to let them stay. 

Most of the group is already there, and Courfeyrac's gaze immediately settles on Combeferre, sitting over on the other side of the room. He's holding the sheet of paper with the agenda for today's meeting on it, but his attention is elsewhere. Grantaire is standing beside him, propped against the table with a bottle already in his hand, and Courfeyrac can't tell what they're talking about, but whatever it is, there's a small smile that tugs at the corners of Combeferre's lips. 

Courfeyrac tries not to watch Combeferre through the entire meeting, and he doesn't think he does a very good job of it, but at least nobody calls him out on it. The meeting ends with Grantaire and Enjolras getting into an argument and everyone else listens for the first few minutes, before leaving them to it, occupying themselves with drinks and each other's company instead. Combeferre is speaking to Feuilly, but Courfeyrac will catch the way he will occasionally glance in Grantaire's direction, until Grantaire is no longer fighting with Enjolras.

"Courfeyrac," Marius says, walking over to him. "I'm sorry I couldn't talk to you yesterday. Do you still need to talk?"

He's just about to reply that no, it's fine, when Grantaire walks past Combeferre, muttering something that startles a quiet laugh out of him. Courfeyrac turns to Marius, lips pressed into a thin line. "Actually, yes. Come with me."

They bid their goodbyes to the others and Marius frowns at Courfeyrac with confusion, waiting for him to speak. Courfeyrac doesn't, until they're two blocks away from the Musain. 

"I need to talk to you about Combeferre."

"Combeferre?" Marius asks, cradling his takeaway coffee cup in both hands. "What about him?"

"I want to talk about Combeferre having sex," Courfeyrac says, and Marius nearly spits his coffee all over himself. 

" _What_?" he squeaks, his face already going pink. 

"I walked in on him last night," Courfeyrac says, deciding to leave out the fact that it was Grantaire with him. "And he was—"

"Oh my god," Marius whispers, horrified. "That's like walking in on your _dad_ having sex."

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure you're not meant to jerk off to your dad having sex," Courfeyrac mutters, and Marius actually does spit his coffee out this time. 

"You _what_?"

Courfeyrac wants to cry. Or jerk off. Or jerk off while crying. He isn't quite sure. He covers his face with both hands and takes a deep breath. "No, you know what, this was a mistake. I shouldn't have bothered you with this. I'm sorry, we'll just pretend we never had this conversation, and—"

"I already texted Cosette," Marius says in a small voice.

"You what?" Courfeyrac asks hollowly.

Marius holds up his phone to show Courfeyrac his message thread with Cosette. The most recent one from him simply reads: _HEPL_.

The phone buzzes and Cosette's reply shows up: _What's the matter, sweetie? I'm here to give you all the hepl you need._

With a quite snort, Courfeyrac takes the phone out of Marius' hand and types, _I'm wrong (Hi, it's Courfeyrac. How did the bondage go?)_

"Courfeyrac!" Marius protests, reading over his shoulder. The phone buzzes again. _I'll meet you both at your place, Courfeyrac. Give me fifteen minutes and I'll bring cupcakes. (It was amazing)_

Handing Marius' phone back to him, Courfeyrac smiles. He can't think of anyone in the world who deserves Cosette more than Marius does, and the same applies in reverse. If he gets bonus cupcakes for being friends with them, he's definitely not complaining.

"Alright, Pontmercy. Back to my apartment to await your wonderful girlfriend and her wonderful cupcakes, yes?" Courfeyrac links arms with Marius, pulling him along. Combeferre is going to be out at work for the next few hours, so they'll have all the space they need to talk, until this all starts to make sense. 

Courfeyrac will figure it out. And if he doesn't, he supposes he still has the option of jerking off while crying.


	3. Chapter 3

Cosette is already waiting for them in front of Courfeyrac's apartment carrying a large box of cupcakes, because she is some kind of angel. No, a goddess. He tells her as much as he unlocks the door and lets them all in. She kisses his cheek and then kisses Marius' cheek too, just so he doesn't feel left out. Courfeyrac is certain that if it were any other couple, it would be sickly sweet. 

"So," Courfeyrac says, once they're settled on the couch with a cupcake each. "I wanted to talk about Combeferre."

"Ooh." Cosette sits up straight with a bright smile. "So the two of you finally slept with each other?"

Courfeyrac nearly drops his cupcake. He turns to her with wide eyes. " _What_?"

"Oh. I just thought that you two—" Cosette presses her lips together and avoids Courfeyrac's eyes. "Never mind. It's nothing."

"Didn't sound like _nothing_ to me. You can't just start saying something like that and then _not finish_ ," Courfeyrac says desperately.

"I shouldn't," Cosette replies, shaking her head.

"I am going to tickle Marius until you tell me," Courfeyrac threatens and Marius squeaks in protest, shoving the remainder of his cupcake into his mouth and struggling to get out of reach. Courfeyrac gets him anyway, and Cosette smiles at them both serenely.

"You two have fun with that."

"Cosette, no, please—" Marius struggles against Courfeyrac, his face already pink as he tries not to giggle.

"This is adorable," Cosette says, settling on the couch comfortably, but she eventually takes pity on them when there are tears streaming down Marius' cheeks and Courfeyrac is begging for her to please just _tell him_.

"I feel bad, it isn't even that big of a deal." Cosette shakes her head. "It's just that since I first met you and Combeferre, I'd always thought that you had a thing for each other. But it looks like I was wrong because from what I can tell, you're only just figuring out that you have a thing for Combeferre and—"

"Actually," Courfeyrac says in a small voice, "I kind of had a thing for him before, too? I was just doing my best to ignore it and that _worked_ , for a really long time, but now it's not and everything sucks."

"Not _everything_ ," Marius replies. "Cosette is incredibly clever you know, and if she was right about you having a thing for Combeferre, then…"

"Then she could be right about…" Courfeyrac can feel his chest expanding with hope, but then he shakes his head. "No. That doesn't work. He's sleeping with Grantaire and—what if they're serious?"

" _Grantaire_?" Marius repeats, his eyes going wide.

"Fuck, I was trying not to mention him by name. I got home earlier than I was expected last night and they were in Combeferre's bed and…"

And now Courfeyrac wants to jerk off while crying all over again. Wonderful.

"But Grantaire is head over heels for Enjolras," Cosette says with a frown.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Clearly not." Courfeyrac hates the bitterness that creeps into his tone. He hates the fact that he's _jealous_ of Grantaire. He cares about all of his friends and wants them to be happy. He isn't meant to feel anything negative towards them. He sighs loudly, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm a terrible person."

"You are _not_ ," Cosette tells him sternly. "We just need to work out what's going on, that's all."

"I don't think we'll have very much luck with that," Courfeyrac mutters. "I asked Combeferre what he did last night and he pretended that Grantaire wasn't even here at all. He's keeping it a _secret_. Do you know how many secrets we keep from each other? Because I thought the answer was _none_ , but that's obviously not true."

Cosette gives him a sad smile. "Well, sweetie, if that were true then you would have told him how you felt by now. That's a secret too."

Courfeyrac's shoulders slump. "I guess."

"You could talk to Grantaire about it?" Marius suggests. "If he knew that you cared for Combeferre—"

"What do I even say to him?" Courfeyrac asks with a quiet laugh. "Oh, hey Grantaire. I kind of saw you and Combeferre doing it, which Combeferre is keeping a secret by the way. I was just wondering how serious you guys are?"

Marius sighs. "Okay, maybe not like _that_."

"Let's just not talk about it any more," Courfeyrac mumbles, taking another cupcake from the box on the table. He's still feeling jealous and guilty, and he doesn't like it. He knows that he's not going to stop dwelling on it, so he'd like to at least get his mind off it for a while if he can. "Why don't we just watch TV for the rest of the afternoon?"

Marius and Cosette, the wonderful human beings that they are, go along with it. They distract Courfeyrac for hours, to the point that he doesn't actually think of Combeferre again until he gets home from work. He walks through the door and looks exhausted, his hair rumbled, his shoulders slumped and face flushed, but Courfeyrac's heart begins to race anyway.

"Hey," he nods in greeting to them, and continues walking to the bathroom to take a shower.

Marius and Cosette excuse themselves before Combeferre comes back out of the shower, saying that they have dinner plans. Combeferre doesn't look particularly bothered by their absence when he walks into the lounge, sitting down beside Courfeyrac and trying one of the cupcakes that Cosette had left behind.

"These are good. What's the occasion?" 

Courfeyrac shrugs. "Cosette was just baking."

"And she brought them over?"

"Marius and Cosette were just keeping me company while you were out," Courfeyrac replies. "I'm sure you have people over too, when I'm not at home."

He regrets saying it immediately, but Combeferre doesn't even seem the least bit bothered by it. He hums in thought and takes another bite out of his cupcake. "That makes sense."

Courfeyrac wants to scream. The urge doesn't go away for the rest of the week, because he won't stop dwelling on it. He'll remember the sight of Combeferre in bed at the most inopportune moments and he's pretty sure that it's well and truly committed to memory now because of how often he's replayed it in his head.

By Friday night, Courfeyrac is desperate to go out to find a distraction. He's not going to stop thinking about Combeferre any time soon and he doubts that his feelings for Combeferre can be fucked out of his system, but he's willing to try anyway. He knows he's already failed as soon as he ends up going home with someone roughly the same height and build as Combeferre. His name is Michel, but Courfeyrac is already mentally calling him something else entirely.

Michel fucks him face-down in bed, one hand gripping his hair, and this is exactly what Courfeyrac needs. He moans into the pillow, avoiding using anybody's name at all, because he knows that will only go badly. Michel is _good_ , he's attentive, he can tell exactly what Courfeyrac wants most without needing to ask, and they get along well enough that they lie in bed afterwards, talking, until Michel starts falling asleep and Courfeyrac takes it as his cue to leave.

It's a fifteen minute walk home and it's late enough that there's nobody else out. Courfeyrac digs through his pockets for his keys as he approaches his door, only to freeze as it opens before he can even reach it.

Grantaire is on his way out, his hair sticking up wildly, his clothes pulled on haphazardly. He stops in his tracks as he sees Courfeyrac. "Shit."

"Good early-morning to you too," Courfeyrac sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"I can explain," Grantaire says hurriedly. He has his brows drawn together, like he's expecting Courfeyrac to start yelling. 

Courfeyrac shakes his head. "Maybe tomorrow? I think I need to pass the fuck out right now."

Grantaire nods cautiously. "Tomorrow. Um. I'm just going to…"

"Is Combeferre awake?" Courfeyrac asks, because he can think of little worse than being done with this conversation only to have an even more difficult one waiting for him on the other side of the door.

"He's asleep," Grantaire says softly and Courfeyrac nods, not wanting to hear any more than that right now. "Um…"

"Good night, Grantaire." Courfeyrac steps aside so Grantaire can walk out of the apartment, and then walks inside. 

The entire apartment is dark. Grantaire had closed the door to Combeferre's room on his way out. Courfeyrac makes a beeline for his own bed, not bothering to undress, and falls asleep immediately.


	4. Chapter 4

Courfeyrac wakes up early the next morning, and goes out before Combeferre wakes up. He isn't quite sure where he's going, but he knows that he doesn't want to be in the apartment with Combeferre right now, trying to act casual and not mention running into Grantaire last night.

He ends up walking to the Musain, more out of habit than anything else, and that's where he runs into Jehan.

"Good morning," Jehan greets with a smile, but his expression quickly grows concerned when Courfeyrac doesn't return it convincingly. He gives Courfeyrac a searching look, like he will understand if only he looks hard enough. "Is everything okay?"

"Not really," Courfeyrac sighs. "I'm not actually sure how much I'm allowed to say, though."

"That's the worst," Jehan says, and Courfeyrac gratefully leans into the hug he's given. 

"I don't want to say _everything sucks_ , but it sure feels like that right now. Having feelings is the worst."

"Oh," Jehan says quietly, as if he suddenly understands. "Is this about Combeferre?"

"What do you mean by that?" Courfeyrac asks with a frown.

"You know _exactly_ what I mean," Jehan replies, and they walk to a table once they get their drinks. "If this were an ideal world, you would both fall into place without a problem but in the real world, people don't communicate half as much as they should."

"You say it like it's really just that easy," Courfeyrac says and sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair.

"You never know. It could be."

Folding his arms across his chest, Courfeyrac huffs quietly. "Communicating is overrated."

Courfeyrac needs to talk to Grantaire, as reluctant as he is to do so, because he has absolutely no idea what to say, or what to expect. He's happy to put it off for now, staying at the Musain until they finish their drinks and then decide to get breakfast while they're here. Jehan is perfectly aware that Courfeyrac is using this as an excuse not to deal with the issue at hand, but is also kind enough to let him get away with it. 

It's nearly lunch time when Courfeyrac's phone rings. His heart skips a beat when he sees Combeferre's name on the screen, which is _ridiculous_ , but Courfeyrac keeps his voice even when he answers.

"Hey, Combeferre."

"Hi. I haven't heard from you since you said someone was taking you home last night. I just wanted to check that you were okay."

"Oh." Courfeyrac immediately feels guilty. "I'm sorry. I came home while you were asleep and then I went out—I'm with Jehan at the Musain right now."

Combeferre sighs, sounding relieved. "Okay. That's good. Look, I don't mean to nag or anything, but leave a note next time, okay?"

"Will do. Sorry for worrying you. I'll see you later." Courfeyrac hangs up and finds Jehan watching him with a raised eyebrow. 

"Whatever you're about to say," Courfeyrac mutters, "I don't want to hear it."

"I'm not saying anything," Jehan replies with a small smile. "Certainly not about how the two of you are _already_ adorable together. If you care about him, Courfeyrac…"

"I'll… do something," Courfeyrac tells him. "Maybe."

"That sounds wonderfully promising," Jehan remarks. 

The more Courfeyrac thinks about it, the more he really needs to speak to Grantaire. He's certain that if Jehan knew about Grantaire and Combeferre, he wouldn't be encouraging Courfeyrac like this.

When he leaves the Musain, just before the lunch rush begins, Courfeyrac gives Grantaire a call.

"Hey." Grantaire pics up on the second ring, like he's been waiting for Courfeyrac's call. He sounds tense, and Courfeyrac knows that this conversation has to happen in person.

"Hey. Are you busy at the moment?"

"I'm at my place. Feuilly's at work, if you wanted to talk."

Courfeyrac smiles gratefully, even though Grantaire can't see. "Sounds good. I'll be over soon, yeah?"

"See you then."

It's a short walk from the Musain to Grantaire's apartment and it's a familiar one to all of their friends, from all the times they've walked him home after he's had too much to drink. It doesn't take more than ten minutes and when Courfeyrac knocks, Grantaire opens the door immediately.

"Come in," he says, he chewing on his lip. He doesn't quite meet Courfeyrac's eyes, turning around to walk to the lounge.

Shutting the door behind him, Courfeyrac sighs quietly. He isn't quite sure how to act with Grantaire and this entire thing feels uncomfortable. Grantaire is sitting on the couch, so Courfeyrac takes Feuilly's arm chair.

"You're acting like I caught you doing something wrong," Courfeyrac says, breaking the heavy silence.

"Well, I kind of feel like you have," Grantaire mumbles, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. "I mean. We weren't exactly telling anyone."

"I noticed that," Courfeyrac says quietly. "You know, I thought Combeferre told me everything."

Grantaire snorts at that. "Do _you_ tell Combeferre everything?"

Courfeyrac doesn't reply, thinking back to what Cosette had pointed out before. "I guess not."

"There's always something," Grantaire says with a small shrug. "It could just be a tiny thing, or it could be massive, game-changing thing. And I have a feeling I know what kind it is, in your case."

"Really," Courfeyrac says neutrally.

"Look, Combeferre and I haven't told anyone because there's nothing to tell. It's just casual, okay? Getting in your way is the complete opposite of what I want, trust me. If you want him, you should really tell him. I'll back right off, so you can—"

"No, I don't want that," Courfeyrac interrupts, shaking his head. "God, no. I feel so selfish just _thinking_ about you doing that."

"That's the problem with being crazy about someone," Grantaire says with a wry grin. "It makes you ridiculously selfish. You think I'm not aware of it, every time I get us completely off track during a meeting, just so Enjolras will yell at me, and give his attention to _me_ a little longer? If any of this was easy and didn't feels like it was killing you half the time, it probably wouldn't feel anywhere near as good."

Courfeyrac laughs quietly at that. "Yeah, true. So… you and Enjolras, then?"

"Me and Enjolras nothing. We don't even belong in the same sentence. He doesn't care. Not in the way I wish he would."

"But you and Combeferre…"

"We're each other's second best," Grantaire tells him, and the meaningful look he gives Courfeyrac says the rest.

"You mean…"

"I mean that you need to talk to Combeferre. About your feelings. Which, believe me I know, _gross_. But you really need to."

Courfeyrac frowns. "But what about you?"

Grantaire smiles. "I'll live."

"But you and Enjolras could—"

"Please don't," Grantaire says softly. 

Courfeyrac shakes his head. "You don't know Enjolras the way I do. You might think he doesn't care, or doesn't notice, but—"

"Courfeyrac," Grantaire says firmly. "Please. Don't."

"This sucks, though. You get nothing out of this."

Grantaire laughs. "Are you kidding? You're both going to be happy, and Combeferre's finally going to stop pining. I get lots out of this."

"Combeferre _pines_?" Courfeyrac asks, his voice going high-pitched.

Grantaire laughs louder this time. "You didn't hear it from me, okay? Speaking of, are we telling Combeferre about this talk? Or the fact that we bumped into each other last night?"

With a heavy sigh, Courfeyrac says, "I kind of… knew before last night. I walked in on you two the other week—I left before you noticed I was there, but…"

"Well, shit, that's embarrassing." Grantaire covers his face with his hands, before suddenly looking up and frowning at Courfeyrac. "Wait. This isn't… you don't just want Combeferre because you saw him with someone else, right? Because this is _Combeferre_ and—"

"It's not just that," Courfeyrac says in a rush. "I kind of… ignored the way I felt about him, okay? Which worked for a long time. I didn't think about him in a sexy way before because, hello, self-preservation, and… wow, is this your way of saying you'll beat me up if I fuck Combeferre over? Because he's my best friend and I don't want to ruin that and I _mean this_. And yeah, I've seen you in boxing matches so you can consider me well and truly terrified, but I want you to know that it's not just because you'll hit me and it will hurt, okay? Because that's the least of my worries."

"Good," Grantaire says, with a pleased smile. "You have no idea how much I want you two to work things out."

"Thanks," Courfeyrac says. "For everything."

"Just talk to Combeferre," Grantaire tells him, and then clears his throat quietly. "I'm sorry for—"

"No, _no_ , don't you dare apologise," Courfeyrac tells him. "You didn't know."

"So we're cool?" Grantaire asks, with a hesitant smile. 

"We're cool," Courfeyrac replies, getting up and clapping Grantaire on the shoulder. "I owe you, R. I'm going to go talk to Combeferre now." 

"Glad to hear." Grantaire gets up, walking Courfeyrac to the door. "I hope it goes well."

"Yeah." Courfeyrac nods. "Me too."


	5. Chapter 5

Combeferre is making lunch by the time Courfeyrac gets home. Courfeyrac is already nervous, but when Combeferre smiles at him, his heart starts pounding even harder.

"Are you hungry?" Combeferre asks. "I wasn't sure if you'd eaten yet, so I made enough for two."

"I haven't," Courfeyrac replies. "Thanks."

He'll talk to Combeferre after they've eaten, he tells himself. Combeferre is a good cook and as delicious as lunch is, Courfeyrac's appetite is ruined by his nerves. Combeferre notices—of course he does—but he doesn't comment on it. Courfeyrac is thankful for it, because he has no idea how he would explain. He still has no idea what he's actually going to say. 

"How is Jehan?" Combeferre asks. "You were gone for a while."

"Jehan's good," Courfeyrac mumbles, looking down at his bowl. If he tells Combeferre that he went to speak to Grantaire, then he's going to have to explain _why_. He keeps his mouth shut.

Combeferre frowns with concern. "Is everything okay?"

Courfeyrac doesn't want to lie, so he simply gives Combeferre a small smile. "Can we maybe talk about it after lunch?"

"Of course," Combeferre replies, but he's frowning. 

They pass the rest of lunch in silence. There's been far too much of that in Courfeyrac's life recently and he doesn't like it. He's determined to change this once he talks to Combeferre. He's going to get all of this out in the open and maybe Grantaire is right, maybe there will always be some little thing that they don't tell each other, but there is absolutely nobody in the world—not even Enjolras—who knows Courfeyrac as well as Combeferre does, and he doesn't want to hide anything any more. 

To Combeferre's credit, he is patient all the way up to the point where they've both washed their bowls and put everything away. Then he turns to Courfeyrac and says, "Okay, talk to me. There's something wrong and… it feels like something's been wrong for a while. What happened?"

"Really?" Courfeyrac's heart sinks. "How long?"

"That's what I'm asking _you_ ," Combeferre replies. "I don't have any of the answers here, Courfeyrac. I hope you appreciate just how unusual and uncomfortable that is for me."

"I'm sorry," Courfeyrac says quietly. "It's my fault. I just… didn't know what to say, or _how_ to say it and I still don't, really, so I'm just going to wing it and you're going to have to forgive me if this comes out really badly, okay? I don't want to fuck up, but I can't keep putting this off just because I don't know where to start."

"Courfeyrac?" Combeferre asks, concerned.

"I saw you and Grantaire," Courfeyrac says, avoiding Combeferre's eyes. "That night, a week ago, when you thought I'd gone home with that guy from the library?"

"Oh, god." 

"I'm _sorry_ ," Courfeyrac says. "I'm sorry I saw. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I'm sorry I desperately wanted to switch places with Grantaire. Actually, scratch that, I'm not sorry about the last thing at all and—okay, fuck, this is going just as badly as I knew it would."

Combeferre stares at him, his mouth open, but he doesn't say anything. 

"It's not just—I don't want to _sleep with you_ , Combeferre. Or I do. But I want to date you. I want—well, I really want to be able to speak in complete sentences right now, but that aside, I want to be with you. Like Marius is with Cosette. That kind of thing. Public cuddling is negotiable but I do want to hold your hand, if that's okay."

Combeferre blinks at Courfeyrac, and then moves to the couch, sitting down and putting his head in his hands. "Give me a moment?"

"Take as long as you need," Courfeyrac tells him, hovering awkwardly beside him. "I mean, I know that I did, and I'm putting you on the spot right now and I'm sorry about that too. I just. I need to say this and I spoke to Grantaire and—"

"You spoke to Grantaire?" Combeferre asks, his voice strained. "When?"

"I went to talk to him after I saw Jehan this morning," Courfeyrac says. "I ran into him on my way home last night. As in, I was about to walk through the door and he walked out of it."

"What did he tell you?" Combeferre asks, his voice full of dread.

"He said that I should talk to you," Courfeyrac says, and clears his throat. "Because… because I _like you_ , Combeferre, and Grantaire said…"

"What did he say?" Combeferre asks, patiently this time. The frown is gone now, because he knows where this is going. There's the tiniest hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth, and that's enough to encourage Courfeyrac to continue.

"He didn't say anything definite that I'd rather hear from you." Courfeyrac meets Combeferre's eyes and gives him a small, hopeful grin. "He told me that you were each other's second best. Because he actually wants Enjolras, surprise surprise, and you…"

"I want you," Combeferre finishes for him. "And I didn't think that you wanted me. I didn't think you wanted what I want, and I'm still not entirely sure that you do."

"Well." Courfeyrac sits down on the couch beside Combeferre, maintaining a little distance between them. "What do you want?"

"A relationship," Combeferre tells him without hesitation. "Something long term, Courfeyrac. I want… well, with you, I want…"

"Everything?" Courfeyrac suggests and he knows that his cheeks have gone pink but Combeferre is blushing too, so it's not so bad. "Because that's kind of what I want."

"What I want right now," Combeferre murmurs, "is to kiss you. Is that okay with you?"

"Is that okay with—god, Combeferre. _Of course_ it is."

"I'm nervous about this, okay?" Combeferre reaches for Courfeyrac, hesitantly taking his hand. He smiles when Courfeyrac links their fingers together. "I'm sorry if this is the worst kiss you've ever received."

Combeferre leans towards him, and Courfeyrac tilts his face up to press their lips together. It's a brief kiss, but as Combeferre begins to pull back, Courfeyrac follows and kisses him again. Their lips linger against each other this time and Courfeyrac sucks in a deep breath as Combeferre wraps an arm around his shoulders, holding him close. Their lips part and Combeferre tentatively licks Courfeyrac's lower lip, encouraged to keep going when Courfeyrac hums softly.

Courfeyrac can't remember the last time he's been kissed quite so thoroughly but as far as he's concerned, it's the best thing in the entire world. Combeferre is warm and solid against him and they gasp into each other's mouths, tightening their grip on each other as they deepen their kiss.

When they finally pull apart, they're both grinning. Combeferre rests their foreheads against each other and his hand finds Courfeyrac's again, squeezing gently.

"I'm not just hallucinating, am I?" he asks quietly. "I just think it's best that I make sure."

Courfeyrac laughs quietly, pressing another light kiss to Combeferre's lips. "No, you're definitely not. This is real, this is happening, and I'll happily kiss you again to prove it if I need to."

Combeferre simply smirks in response, tilting Courfeyrac's face up for another kiss. It's good to know that Combeferre can't get enough of this either. They both want it just as bad as each other and when Combeferre's hands settle on Courfeyrac's hips, pulling gently, Courfeyrac doesn't need to be told twice. He goes willingly, straddling Combeferre and grinning down at him, kissing him again. Combeferre leans back against the couch and Courfeyrac presses himself as close as possible, and they break their kiss as their hips meet, both of them hard, their clothed cocks nearly aligned so that if they move against each other _just_ so…

Combeferre makes the first, tentative move. He rocks his hips and it makes them both moan before Courfeyrac does the same. He grinds down against Combeferre and the friction is utterly amazing. They're both quick to let go of their reservations, clinging to each other as they rock their hips against each other, caught between wanting _more_ and not wanting to come so soon.

"I knew you'd be loud," Combeferre murmurs as Courfeyrac pants into his ear. "You always are, even when you're trying to be quiet, and I'll hear you in your room, no matter who you're with, no matter how hard I try not to listen and wish that I was the one in there with you, getting you to make all of those wonderful sounds."

Courfeyrac whimpers and Combeferre kisses along his jaw as if to say, _just like that._

"You have no idea," Combeferre tells him, his hips slowing, "just how disgustingly jealous I was of everyone you'd bring home with you. I'd make myself be polite to them if I ran into them, just in case you decided that _this_ one was going to stay, and I hated how relieved I felt when none of them ever came back."

Courfeyrac takes Combeferre's face into both hands, kissing him firmly. "I think we should move to your bed."

"I think so too," Combeferre murmurs, and instead of waiting for Courfeyrac to get up, he simply gets to his feet, carrying Courfeyrac with him. 

"Holy shit," Courfeyrac whispers, as Combeferre steadies them against the wall just by the door to his room. "You could actually fuck me against this wall."

"Next time," Combeferre promises. "Right now, I just really need you in my bed."

"How do you want me?" Courfeyrac asks as Combeferre sets him down on the soft mattress. "If you want me on my hands and knees—"

"Courfeyrac," Combeferre interrupts. Courfeyrac is already making to turn around, and Combeferre places a hand on his hip, turning him back around. The sharp spike in arousal at being manhandled is definitely something Courfeyrac wants to explore in great detail in the near future. Combeferre wets his lips, looking slightly embarrassed. "I want you just like this, if that's okay with you. Face to face."

"Yeah." Courfeyrac smiles. "That sounds good."

Combeferre opens a drawer in his bedside table, pulling out a bottle of lube and a pack of condoms, and Courfeyrac raises an eyebrow with a grin.

"So that's where you've been hiding them."

"Not exactly _hiding_ ," Combeferre replies. "But keeping them out of sight, yes."

"If only I'd known," Courfeyrac says mournfully. "All the time I could have spent having dirty, detailed fantasies about you."

Combeferre snorts quietly, squirting a bit of lube into his palm. "Plenty of time to make up for that now. Better yet, we can actually _do it_."

Courfeyrac means to reply, but then Combeferre is gently pushing his legs apart, teasing his entrance with the tip of one slick finger, and talking suddenly doesn't feel very important at all.

Combeferre fingers him slowly, gently, taking his time to make Courfeyrac jerk and gasp with pleasure, with every light brush against his prostate. He makes sure that it feels _good_ , that Courfeyrac is actually enjoying himself instead of just treating this like a means to an end. Soon enough, Courfeyrac is arching off the bed impatiently, ready to beg Combeferre for more. Combeferre is wearing a satisfied smile and Courfeyrac doesn't say anything, just whines, and Combeferre knows exactly what he needs.

He withdraws his fingers and rolls a condom on, kissing Courfeyrac's forehead as he lines himself up, waiting for Courfeyrac to nod until pushing into him, little by little, until he bottoms out. He stays right where he is for a moment, to let them both adjust, and then finally begins to thrust just before Courfeyrac is about to beg for him to _move_.

Combeferre starts off gently, much like he had been with his fingers, but that very quickly gives way to something _more_. His thrusts grow harder, picking up in pace gradually enough to let Courfeyrac adjust, with Combeferre glancing at Courfeyrac so he can silently confirm that he is okay with this. As if it's even a question.

Of course Combeferre would be good at this, Courfeyrac thinks hazily. Combeferre is good at _everything_ —and then he is no longer capable of coherent thought because Combeferre hits his prostate and Courfeyrac cries out, scrambling to hold Combeferre where he is when he goes still.

"No, no, no, please no, don't stop."

Combeferre huffs quietly in amusement, and Courfeyrac can see the relief in his eyes. "You liked that?"

"This is only the most amazing sex I've ever had," Courfeyrac replies. "Wait—just wait a second, there's just one thing I want to do."

Combeferre, ever patient, simply nods. Courfeyrac sits up, turning them around and pushing Combeferre to lie down. Combeferre doesn't ask, beyond raising an eyebrow, and Courfeyrac winks in reply. He settles with his knees on either side of Combeferre, whose lips part in a silent, _oh_. Courfeyrac sinks back down onto Combeferre's cock, rolling his hips experimentally. Combeferre looks up at him, hands settling on Courfeyrac's sides as he shifts slightly, getting his feet flat against the mattress for leverage before he starts to thrust. He doesn't up to it now that he knows what Courfeyrac likes, and Courfeyrac splays his hands out on Combeferre's chest, riding him just as hard.

"Courfeyrac," Combeferre gasps, wrapping his fingers loosely around Courfeyrac's cock, stroking him in time to their movements. "Fuck—Courfeyrac—you feel so—"

Courfeyrac clenches down on Combeferre, drawing a loud moan from him. It's quite possibly Courfeyrac's favourite sound in the entire world.

"Fuck, I'm going to come," Courfeyrac gasps out.

"Yes," Combeferre murmurs, stroking Courfeyrac faster now. "Yeah. Come on, Courfeyrac…"

Courfeyrac comes with a loud cry of Combeferre's name, all over his hand, trembling as Combeferre strokes him through it. 

"Courfeyrac, _Courfeyrac_." Combeferre follows close behind, mouth falling open as he moans loudly. Courfeyrac wants to commit the sight to memory.

Combeferre pulls Courfeyrac into his arms as they pant quietly, waiting to regain their breath. They pull apart, but as soon as Combeferre's thrown his condom out, they're back in each other's arms again. They smile into their kiss and Courfeyrac shudders with pleasure when Combeferre's fingers run through his hair, tugging just gently.

"You like it when I do that," Combeferre observes, because of course he notices.

"I'd like it better if you pulled harder," Courfeyrac replies with a grin, and gasps as Combeferre does just that.

"Hmm, we'll have to revisit this later," Combeferre murmurs.

"You mean, as soon as we can get it up again?"

Combeferre laughs quietly. "Probably. For now, we're taking a shower."

" _Together_?" Courfeyrac isn't even ashamed of the way his face lights up at the thought, and Combeferre gives him a fond smile as he leads the way.

«·»

They're holding hands as they walk into the Musain the next afternoon for their meeting. They'd talked about it beforehand, trying to decide on how best to tell their friends, and had both come to same conclusion that it didn't really need any kind of grand declaration. From what Courfeyrac has gathered from Cosette and Jehan, it probably won't even come as a surprise anyway.

Enjolras is the first to notice and he look between the two of them and then at their joined hands with a small smile. He gives Combeferre a nod, which makes Courfeyrac want to ask a million questions. Combeferre, knowing Courfeyrac as well as he does, simply squeezes his hand and smiles.

The second, unsurprisingly, is Grantaire. He's sitting at a table with a bottle and raises it in their direction with a warm smile. Combeferre's grip on Courfeyrac's hand tightens a little once again. They've spent a lot of time talking about this too. Regardless of how Grantaire has encouraged this, it still feels distinctly unfair to him. They need to do something, preferably to encourage _Enjolras_ to do something. They've already decided that they're going to talk to Enjolras today after the meeting is over. Courfeyrac isn't completely sure what to say, but Combeferre seems confident enough.

They sit beside each other during the meeting as they always do. Combeferre isn't even the least bit subtle about the way he takes Courfeyrac's hand into his own. Nobody says anything about it throughout the entire meeting, but several of them catch Courfeyrac's eye while Enjolras is speaking and just as he'd expected, they're either grinning at him or they don't look the least bit surprised.

Marius is sitting at the table to the side with Cosette and while they both smile in Courfeyrac's direction as well, Marius keeps looking over to Grantaire, who is watching Enjolras as usual, starting arguments for the fun of it. Nobody is surprised when their argument escalates, effectively putting an end to the actual meeting. Courfeyrac notices the small smile tugging at Grantaire's lips even as Enjolras is tearing his arguments apart. Enjolras is always willing to argue with people and they all know it, but there's a different feel to this one. It's almost as if Enjolras is actually aware that the main reason Grantaire is being so stubborn is to make it last for longer, and he's actually going along with it. Curious.

"Hey…" he begins, turning to Combeferre.

"Enjolras?" Combeferre asks with a small smile. "He's been coming around to Grantaire over time. I knew he would. All he needs is that final push, and then…"

"What would you have done?" Courfeyrac asks. "If we hadn't realised how we felt about each other…"

"Exactly what Grantaire did," Combeferre replies simply. "We'd spoken about it before—mostly in the hypothetical sense, or so I'd thought. We'd already agreed that should Enjolras ever develop feelings for Grantaire, or you for me… well, it's not like we were actually in any kind of relationship. We're friends. We have no claim on each other."

" _Definitely_ talking to Enjolras," Courfeyrac says with a determined nod. "Oh, can you imagine how happy Grantaire would be? He deserves that. And more."

Combeferre smiles at Courfeyrac fondly and wraps an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a kiss. It earns them a few whistles and cat calls, and they pull apart laughing quietly. Enjolras and Grantaire have stopped arguing too, but before either Courfeyrac or Combeferre can get up, Marius is walking across the room. He touches Enjolras' elbow, taking him aside to talk. Courfeyrac has no idea what he says, but whatever it is seems to be enough to have Enjolras turning to Grantaire, taking him by the hand and leading him out of the Musain.

_Help_ , Grantaire mouths over his shoulder at Combeferre, his eyes wide, but they're out of sight before Combeferre can actually do anything.

"Marius," Courfeyrac calls, indicating one of the empty spaces at their table. 

"Yes?" Marius is wearing a satisfied expression as he walks over, sitting opposite Courfeyrac. 

"What did you say?" Combeferre asks, sounding impressed.

"I just pointed out that arguing only counts as foreplay if Enjolras actually does something about the fact that he and Grantaire want each other," Marius says with a smile that grows wider when Cosette sits down beside him and kisses his cheek.

"Did you put him up to this?" Courfeyrac asks Cosette, who simply shakes her head.

"I figured that if you and Combeferre have finally sorted things out between yourselves, then it was about time they did too."

"Shit," Courfeyrac murmurs. "I think you're my favourite person."

"I object to that," Combeferre speaks up with a raised eyebrow and a smile tugging at his lips. 

"Second favourite," Courfeyrac amends. "You get first place by default, okay?"

Combeferre grins, leaning in for another kiss. Courfeyrac kisses back, not pulling away for a long time. They should give Enjolras and Grantaire some time alone together right now. He's in no hurry to go anywhere. Especially now that he's in Combeferre's arms. Everyone else will just have to put up with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading this! ♥
> 
> Special thanks to Jaye, for all the support and encouragement, and for reading over this for me.


End file.
